Kings, Queens, Heroes, & Fools

by M. R. Mathias

  She wasn’t worried about King Mikahl and his sword anymore. Soon he would be in the red priests’ trap. She worried about Queen Willa’s Blacksword soldiers, and all those vicious, tattoo covered bastards from Seaward. She didn’t have a sizable force of men to lead into a war, but she had a dragon.

  She wondered if it might be wiser to let Willa and Queen Rachel send more of their fighters. That way the demons and devils she intended to release from the Nethers could have them all at once. In her mind’s eye she saw Gerard’s fearsome demonic visage, and knew that it would be up to him. He would tell her what to do. He would reach through her staff and fill her belly full of sticky heat, the kind that scalded her insides. He would get his way.

  She started to urge Vrot northward so that she might investigate the wall that she’d heard Lord Bzorch was building around his city, but she changed her mind. She had to laugh. The stupid breed giant had hated the magical walls King Balton imprisoned them behind at Coldfrost. Now he was building his own walls around himself. Whether it was made of stone and wood, or of magic, to Shaella, a wall was a wall. If all Bzorch really wanted was to be isolated with his own people he could’ve just stayed in Coldfrost. Did it matter who made the walls?

  She wasn’t worried about the Lord of Locar, though, she was the one who had freed him and his people from the eternal prison of Coldfrost. She wouldn’t let him forget that.

  Gerard’s image formed in her mind again and she longed for him. The red priests were preparing to call him forth, but she still needed to visit Ra’Gren. She needed to assess his battle plan and wanted to remind him of her might.

  Below them, near Seareach, a small group of men were heaving body after body into the Leif Greyn River. The snappers and dactyls would be thick along the edge of the marshes, all of them fighting to get a taste of the ripening human flesh as it floated south toward the sea. By the looks of it there would be plenty to go around.

  Farther south a large troop of Dakaneese foot soldiers was marching toward the passage. She had to respect Ra’Gren. The dead were far too fresh for him to have sent the reinforcements after the battle. He had done so in anticipation of victory.

  The Dakaneese cities all long the marshy Leif Greyn passed under them quickly as Vrot sped toward O’Dakahn. They soared over the fishing villages of Pearsh and Owask, then Osvoin, where Shaella’s mother had lived her pitiful life as a swamp witch. Pael had planted his seed in her and disappeared into the mountains north of Westland. He’d ignored Shaella until her first menstruation. Then out of nowhere he’d arrived and given her a spell book. Gifts that caused her to have to use her mind arrived irregularly. Then came Flick and Cole, and the grand idea to train the zard and conquer Westland. Shaella had only learned recently from reading Pael’s journals that her two wizards were literally under her spell. Pael had charmed them to her long ago. They had no choice but to obey and adore her. This was disturbing because she had long thought them her true friends.

  Looking back, she realized that Pael had loved her. After all, he had conquered Westland for her when he made King Glendar empty it of able bodied men. The knowledge of the spell he cast over her wizards allowed her to order them around more objectively now. Pael had left a trail of information that led her directly to his journals. She’d spent most of her life thinking that he had forgotten her, that he loved Prince Glendar and had really wanted a son. Now she understood that a lot of what he did had been done for her, at least until he found the power of Shokin. She still hated her father, though. He killed Gerard.

  Gerard had become more than human, and she longed for him like a desert longs for water. She growled with frustration as O’Dakahn came into view below them. Here she was fussing with King Ra’Gren when she could be bringing Gerard out of his hellish prison. The King of Dakahn had pointed out in his missive that she owed him, and maybe she did. His pirates had helped capture the barges of weapons and supplies that sustained her zard army while they prepared to take Westland. But Pael had paid him handsomely for the aid. She owed Ra’Gren the courtesy of hearing his need, but nothing more.

  She was a true Dragon Queen again, and her lover was about to provide her with an army of demons. Ra’Gren needed to understand the only reason he was sitting his throne was because she allowed it. If anything, he owed her for that.

  ***

  After a meal of sea-born delicacies that was followed by the slow satisfaction of a young slave girl’s mouth, King Ra’Gren reconvened his court. The announcer’s staff finished booming, and his mouth opened to call out, but the news of Queen Shaella’s arrival burst through the door in the form of an overly excited messenger boy. The poor runner was as terrified of catching the King’s trident in his chest as he was of the sleek black dragon outside.

  “Welcome her in then,” Ra’Gren ordered one of the men lingering near his throne.

  “She says for you to come to her,” the boy said before darting back out of the throne room as fast as he possibly could.

  It was hard to tell whether the long low sound that escaped Ra’Gren was a sigh or a growl. After a moment of brooding, he rose. “Very well,” he conceded. “Gather my personal guard.”

  A few moments later Ra’Gren’s procession made its way out of the front doors of his lavish palace. At the bottom of the long flight of stone stairs that led into the statue-strewn bailey, a sizable young black dragon sat, looming over Queen Shaella. Its slitted yellow eyes held enough challenge in them that some of Ra’Gren’s court scurried back to the higher steps. Ra’Gren might have felt fear himself, but he didn’t show it. The captain of his guard did, though. His trembling was so pronounced that his armor was clattering. When Ra’Gren was five steps above Shaella, he stopped.

  “I like what you’ve done with your hair,” he said with a slight bow and a smirk on his face. “You’ve grown into form, I see.”

  Shaella didn’t let his remark about her burned scalp bother her. She wasn’t a vain little girl. She knew that her scars were ugly. Instead of reacting, she had Vrot stretch his long sinuous neck over her so that his acid dripping maw was inches from Ra’Gren. The King of Dakahn’s face went as a white as his hair. It was obvious he was fighting not to tremble as the fetid stench of Vrot’s corrosive breath blew his hair back.

  A long silence ensued, while Ra’Gren gathered himself. “If your dragon is hungry, Shaella,” he said as he pushed the clattering captain of his guard toward her, “this one has volunteered to be his meal. A captain who would allow a dragon to land at my doorstep without even a warning is worthless to me.”

  As the soldier stumbled forth, Vrot didn’t wait for Shaella’s Command. He clamped his mouth down over him. The sound of crunching bone and corroding metal drowned out the man’s screams. The dragon then tilted his head back and chugged the body deeper into his maw. In two heartbeats the captain’s kicking legs disappeared down the dragon’s gullet. Somewhere higher up the steps the sound of retching and the splatter of vomit was heard.

  “Enough foolishness,” Shaella snapped.

  “I agree,” said Ra’Gren. “Tell me, Shaella, why is it that you sold me all the Westland nobility that resisted you, but you’ll not have a slave in Westland?”

  Shaella smiled. “Slavery breeds weakness.”

  “Slaves can be bred to be strong or weak,” retorted Ra’Gren.

  “No,” she corrected him. “Slavery breeds weakness in the master. If you take away all of your slaves, Ra’Gren, you and your overlords are helpless.” She laughed at his expression. “When you have sons, I hope they are wiser than you are.”

  His growing scowl made her want to laugh even harder, but she calmed herself. “What do you want from me?” she asked harshly.

  “Who are you to...” Ra’Gren’s angry roar was cut short when Vrot’s head came striking down at him.

  “You’ll do well to remember who needs who,” Shaella snarled. With a wave of her hand she stopped the dragon’s attack. Ra’Gren’s face was a bright shade of red now. “You
wrote that Westland owed you, but you are mistaken. Who sent you all these wagon loads of Wildermont gold, and every man, woman, and child that remained in Wildermont after my father wasted it?”

  “King Glendar gave me those gifts,” Ra’Gren argued with impotent defiance.

  “My father’s puppet,” said Shaella hotly. “Why do you think Pael would give you these things? Do you think he did it so that you could insult his daughter, and try to claim debts you’re not owed?”

  Ra’Gren took a deep breath and tried to temper his rage. “Shaella...” he started.

  “Queen Shaella,” she said. “If you want to see what power is, I will show you here and now. I will crumble your castle and let your slaves dance on your throne. If you want Westland’s aid, and are willing to ask me for it, you might get what you need. Now tell me, Ra’Gren, what do you want from me?”

  Amazingly, Ra’Gren still seemed more angry than afraid. The people around him were terrified. With a scowl of distaste showing plainly on his face, he finally spoke. “I need to know that, if Queen Rachel and Willa the Witch come marching through Valleya, you will take up arms against the east and finish your father’s failed conquest.” Ra’Gren was glad to have said it the way he did. He hadn’t expected Queen Shaella to be this strong.

  “You’re impossible,” she spat. “I will aid you against the east, but for my own reasons. Not for yours, or my father’s.”

  Vrot lowered his head and she climbed up onto his neck. Once she was comfortable she looked down at the King of Dakahn. “You’d have me fight off the whole of the east just so you can take Wildermont. It would be easier for me to take both, Dakahn and Wildermont, for myself.” She laughed as he realized the truth of her words. “Remember that, Ra’Gren.”

  As the dragon leapt into the air, Shaella was lost in the rush of her power. She’d almost forgotten how it was supposed to be. With a dragon under her, it all came back. She decided that she would reward Flick handsomely for the gift. Then she realized that the gift had truly come from Pael. After all, he was the one who had placed the charm on Flick that gave him the desire to serve her so well.

  She had no doubt that Pael loved her, but she still hated him for killing Gerard.

  Gerard!

  Chapter Thirty – Six

  Hyden was starting to worry about Mikahl. His friend wasn’t sleeping, and on those rare occasions that he did manage to find slumber, the High King tossed and turned. He was sweating profusely, as if he were feverish, but only when he was dreaming. Every now and then he would mumble something about, Princess Rosa, or King Balton. Sometimes he would wake suddenly and look around as if he were a lost child.

  Hyden knew that Mikahl had plenty to worry about, but as they drew nearer to Westland, and the dangerous task they were set on taking, he found he was concerned. Mikahl was possibly too ill to attempt sneaking into the Dragon Queen’s castle. If anything, the High King’s exhausted condition would be a hindrance. Hyden hoped to help his friend sort out whatever was the matter as he didn’t want either of them to get caught. He approached Mikahl with these concerns one evening, after Mikahl woke from a troublesome dream.

  The ship they were on was called Shepherds’ Goddess. As the name implied, it was mainly used to haul stock. Prince Raspaar purchased it from a yard in Salazar where it had been sitting in dry dock for most of a decade. At least it held water and seemed sturdy enough in the one storm they sailed through. In its hold, forty head of prime Valleyan breeding stock whinnied and stomped about in the narrow stalls. Even on the deck with the breeze, the rich earthy aroma of digested oats was potent. Below decks the smell could only be described as ripe.

  Hyden and Mikahl shared a tiny cabin. There was barely enough room for both of them to stand up at the same time. Hyden noticed Mik was awake and leapt from his upper bunk. He took a seat on the footlocker near his friend’s feet. Mikahl looked terrible.

  “What is it, Mik?” Hyden asked. “You have to tell me. We can’t go into Westland with you half awake.”

  “I have to go,” Mikahl said harshly. “I don’t expect you to follow me. If you don’t think you can trust me, or the state I’m in, then beg off.”

  “Trust you?” Hyden’s voice was tinged with anger now. “We’ve been through too much for this. Tell me what the problem is or I’ll call the whole thing off, at least your part of it. I have to find Phen, and I’ll somehow get Rosa free if I can, but you’re sick, Mik. How are you going to keep from being discovered when you call out in your sleep?”

  “How could you stop me from going?” Mikahl asked. He propped himself up on an elbow and it was obvious that he was more curious now than aggravated. The effects of his dream were fading, save for the sheen of the sweat that slicked his face.

  “I’m a legendary wizard, Mik,” Hyden joked. He was relieved to see Mikahl grinning. “I can send you to another plane of existence. While you’re there you can go on a quest to find Oarly’s other boot.”

  “Aye,” Mikahl chuckled. “The stumpy bastard told me about his boot, and the cinder pepper.” Mikahl cringed at the idea of it. “Brutal.”

  “Aye,” Hyden nodded. “Talk to me, Mik. We have to succeed here. It’s not just me and you who will perish if we fail. If something happens to you, the kingdom will lose Ironspike’s might.”

  “Bah,” Mikahl huffed as he reached for his boots. He pulled a shirt from the pack by his bunk and tried to shake the lingering effects of the dream as he dressed.

  Mikahl hated the dream. It sickened him to see his father’s haunting, worm-ridden visage. And Rosa was bleeding and pleading for him to save her. Even now he could hear her in the recesses of his mind.

  “Come on, let’s get some air and I’ll try to explain.” Mikahl stepped out the door to make room for Hyden but called over his shoulder before he got too far, “Bring the flask Oarly slipped you. I think I’ll need a sip or two.”

  They made their way up onto the deck. After long weeks of traveling on the Seawander, Hyden was spoiled to its luxuries. The Shepherds’ Goddess was a ship of purpose, not built for comfortable travel. The peak of the bow offered the only bit of open space large enough for the two of them to speak privately.

  Hyden decided it was like being on a balcony that overlooked the sea. Seeing his friend’s troubled expression, he handed Mikahl Oarly’s flask. Mikahl took a long pull from it and winced.

  “By the gods,” he hacked into a hoarse cough. “Did that fargin dwarf piss in this?” He wiped his mouth and spat. “It’s got the aftertaste of a refuse pit.”

  “Hyden laughed despite his growing concern. “It’s Wyndall’s home-brew,” Hyden explained. “Persimmons and some pink fruit fermented in a goat’s bladder.”

  Mikahl blinked a few times. “It’s strong enough. I nearly swallowed my tongue.”

  “Aye,” Hyden agreed as he took a sip and made a sour face. After he managed to swallow, he spoke in a hiss, “I should’ve filled it with squat weed juice to pay you back for your departing gift.”

  “That was masterful, wasn’t it?” Mikahl was serious. “I had no part in the thing with the cinder pepper though. That was all Oarly. Dugak warned me he was a great trickster.”

  “He is,” Hyden agreed. “He made us all think he was dead on Cobalt’s island. You should’ve seen Phen crying like a babe.” He stopped himself. The thought reminded him of the matter in hand. “I have to go fetch him. I’m not sure what it is, but there is something special about him. He kind of reminds me of you.”

  Mikahl shook his head. “They are torturing the Princess, trying to draw me into a trap.”

  “How do you know?” Hyden asked.

  “I’m not sure, but I keep having this dream that’s not just a dream.” Mikahl faced Hyden and his eyes were grave. “It’s like seeing things that happened through someone else’s eyes. They’ve violated my father’s grave and mutilated the Princess. Something tells me it’s a trap, but there’s no way I can keep from trying to save her. It’s as if I’ve been spe
lled from afar.”

  “Phen would know of such spells,” Hyden said, chiding himself for not learning more about magecraft now that he could read. Phen had taught him a dozen cantrips. Not illusionary tricks and the like, but real magic. Nothing formidable enough to take on a sorceress like Shaella, or her bald-headed wizards, though. Hyden couldn’t even find the boot he’d made vanish. He did have some of Phen’s spell books in his pack. He decided he would study them. Maybe he could find something that could help?

  Talon swooped down and landed on the rail between them. He kept his wings partially open to keep his balance as the ship rolled and swayed on the sea.

  “He’s gotten huge,” Mikahl observed calmly. He remembered when Talon was barely a foot off the ground. Now the fierce looking hawkling was twice that or more. The bird’s wingspan from tip to tip was as long as Ironspike.

  Hyden beamed like a parent. “He’s strong too. He carried a fish twice his size up out of the sea to the deck of the Seawander once.”

  Mikahl nodded and reached for the flask again. Hyden let him take it.

  “I guess we need to figure out how the bitch is planning to trap you,” said Hyden. “Or at least make a plan better than what we’ve got.” Hyden was glad that Mikahl wasn’t taking the matter of his sickness lightly. He could tell that it would be impossible to try and stop Mikahl from taking part in what was to come. He didn’t like the situation, but then again who would? His faith in Mikahl was returning.

  “Gods... Ughh!” Mikahl coughed as Wyndall’s brew stole the breath from his lungs. “You don’t like our plan?” he asked after he’d regained his breath. “We take to Lion Lake, swim into the underwater tunnel that Lord Gregory told us about, and follow his map through the dungeons. Then we go up into the castle and start killing skeeks and bald-headed wizards until there’s no one left to kill.”

  “Is that really your plan?” Hyden snatched the flask back and took a longer sip this time.